


Save the date, forever begins now

by scotchandwhitelies (orphan_account)



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 20:37:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/scotchandwhitelies
Summary: “Tish. You know you can talk to me, love”“I know.”“Anytime. I mean it.”She nods.“I know”, she repeats. He presses her closer, winding both arms around her body until she sighs happily and tension leaves her muscles.“I love you”, he says, and hates that he sounds almost drained. Letitia doesn’t take heed of it, strokes the grey patch in his beard and pecks his chin before hugging him tight.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Shuri, Sebastian Stan & Letitia Wright, Sebastian Stan/Letitia Wright
Comments: 9
Kudos: 41





	Save the date, forever begins now

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE: This story was meant to be written in three parts but I don't have the motivation to work on it anymore. Sorry for those who subscribed to it.

In their nine months of dating, Sebastian keeps getting surprised by her. But he doesn’t know if he wholly approves of her idea this time and is glad she cannot see the way his smile dissolves when she tells him about her brand new idea; getting a suit for the wedding so they match even more.

He munches another bite of his toast and swallows it though it suddenly tastes like emptiness. He reaches for a glass of water then. The ceremony will take place in April, in a small church of East London and Sebastian plans to fly his darling mother and his closest friends there. It’s not a shot-gun marriage per say but Letitia and him have only dated for nine months.

It’s a good thing they both have an unweathering faith in their relationship because not everyone approves.

“_Seb _?”

He clears his throat, tempted with little lies. Considering the floating hubbub he can sense on the other side of the line, he guesses she’s already at the airport. They haven’t seen each other at all this month, the both of them knees deep in new projects. A BBC police drama to shoot in Brighton for her and the leading man role for him in a play of the East Village.

“Yeah”

“So, your thoughts ?”

“Cool.”

“You sound as excited as if I asked you to cuddle a dead fish”

He sighs with a smile. She knows him so much, that woman.

“Okay. I’m gonna be honest. Please, don’t get angry.”

Sebastian could almost see her roll her eyes from here. He stands and draws near the window then, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder as he fixes a stain with a micro-fiber cloth. He’s spent the entire day scrubbing his apartment. She deserves no less.

“I kind of wanna see you in a wedding _dress_.”

There’s silence on the other end and he shuts his eyes.

“_Tish_ ?”

He winces after a sizzling sound, placing his phone against the other ear to relieve the other.

“Oh shit-sorry. Sebastian ?”

“I’m there, love”

“Hey. Seb ? You in there ? Hellooooooo”

She’s so adorable he only smiles.

“Tish ? You alright ?”

“Yeah, sorry for the mess. I dropped my phone. Now, where were we ?”

He inhales a sharp breath, not wanting to either irritate her or get irritated with the topic. He’s not that traditional but if he’s honest with himself, he’s a little tickled Tish wants to go with the traditional wedding scenery without the appropriate get-up. It’s not that she doesn’t look smoking hot in a pantsuit, she’s a true show-stopper when she wears one. He’s just dreamt about this day for so long and in every mental picture, she’s been wearing a white dress.

He’d loathe sounding like a paternalistic conservative then.

After all, why not a suit ? Letitia is as modern a Christian as it gets.

“Your wedding suit”, he huffs.

“Actually, I’m thinking more of a _jumpsuit_ but yeah ! Whatchu think ?”

“That would be original”, he concedes, ignoring the twist in his stomach. He strides towards the spacious living room then, humming at her excited babbling about an off-the-shoulder cut and some vintage lace details.

“I’m glad you catch my drift, man”, she sighs with pleasure, “’Cause none of my friends are okay with this. Can’t wait to get them off my back now you approve.”

He chuckles nervously, hears her speak to someone else over the phone, asking for spare minutes. She sighs like the saddest woman in the world.

“I have to go. See you in seven hours”, she says, the longing seeping in her tone.

“See you soon, love ! Have a safe flight. Still don’t want me to come at the airport ?”

“_Oh hell no_”, she replies without missing a beat. That makes him giggle. In nine months, they’ve only had one official appearance together, during a movie premiere. Needless to say, the internet lost their minds and sometimes, spending time together in public is like an obstacle course.

He knows some paparazzi leeches would try to sneak pictures of her at soon as she arrives on American soil. It took a lot of sweet talk to convince her to hire some security before the travel but in the end, she relented and the knowledge eases his mind.

“Alright, alright. I’m not asking again”

He keeps staring at his phone after the call, uneasy at the way he concealed his feelings and concerned that the bride’s dress is such an important matter to him. Maybe he’s that much of a romantic.

* * *

She’s tired and a little jet-lagged but too excited to stay home. Sebastian offers dinner in a quaint French restaurant of Lower Manhattan then.

He cannot keep from touching her. Doesn’t know if the long distance thing is heightened by their upcoming wedding but he finds himself stroking the veins on her wrist, or entwining their fingers. Though he doesn’t allow himself much PDA and settles for the promise he reads in her eyes. It has taken them some time to figure it out but there are plenty of ways to relieve the tension without them actually having sex.

There’s wandering eyes all around them, even though Sebastian has asked for a retreated spot, beside a heavy turquoise blue column. He rubs her jeans with his thumb underneath the checkered tablecloth, smiling around his mouthful of beef bourguignon when she sighs in relief.

It’s short-lived. Too soon, the arrival of a pair of bubbly teenagers stopping at their level breaks the spell. As always, Letitia knows how to be kind and assertive at the same time. Sebastian crosses his arms as he takes note, nodding to her explaining that she doesn’t want to take a picture at the moment but she still accepts to sign a napkin.

“Well. That had to happen”, she says as she picks up her fork to catch some ribbon noodles. She’s beautiful tonight, as always, but even more so with braids cascading down her back. He wonders if she’ll accept to wear this kind of hairstyle for the wedding, as a compromise to the lack of dress.

“Tish”, he says, fingers lingering on the pear shaped engagement ring adorning her hand .

“Yeah ?”

“About the pantsuit thing…”

She slurps a noodle in her mouth then, so fast Sebastian is a little concerned. After tapping a napkin against her mouth, she searches her bag for her phone and gushes when she takes hold of it.

“I’ve plenty of ideas saved ! Look at this Pinterest”

She hands him the device then and he doesn’t have the heart to refuse. He’s a little relieved seeing some of the models with detachable skirts. He didn’t have a clue bridal pantsuits could look so diverse.

“I like this one”, he says, tapping his finger against a minimalist piece. The beaded neckline looks incredibly glamorous; daring even, but there’s that tomboy charm to it that would fit Letitia just fine.

“It’s beautiful. But I’d prefer an open back to a cleavage”, she muses, bringing her padded chair close to his so they both look at the screen without twisting their necks. He presses a kiss against her temple then keeps his arm around her shoulders as she rattles designer names and trades Pinterest for Instagram pages.

* * *

He whispers in her ear on and off the whole walk home, because she gets adorably mock offended when he does that and whines with effort of ‘_Seb, you need to shut up’ _and ‘_I’m sure this man overheard !"_

At the beginning, he was the one who insisted on keeping their relationship a secret. For her own protection. Then they both suffered of the secrecy and having to lie their way around a perfectly sound relationship. Hiding their love was the most miserable moment of his life. So he doesn’t give a shit about what people might think today. Tish has chosen him, not anyone else, and if someone had a problem with that, they could take it to the grave.

She’s the one to cage him against the door the minute they walk into his apartment, making sure she tastes his mouth ten different ways before he takes charge, grabs her ass and hoists her up so her legs clutch his hips. They don’t even make it to the bedroom and end up making out on his powdery blue sofa.

It’s frantic in the way it always is after a long separation. He still wills his mouth away from hers long enough to know what she wants, ignoring the throb in his pants as he pulls away just enough to watch her face. His breathing is already chaotic, saturated with need. She lets out a soft whimper, her legs trembling on either side of him.

“What do you want huh ? Tell me, love”, he exhales with a hoarse voice.

“**Tease**”, she huffs, arching her back so the crotch of her pants meets with his.

“What will it be this time ?”, he replies, peppering her neck with kisses, rolling her shirt up so he can brush the small swell of her breasts, “My mouth ? _My fingers_ ?”

You could call it cheating in a way but virginity is all about semantics. They never indulge all the way. Sebastian keeps giving her samples of what’s to come on their wedding night; and he’s grown quite addicted to her fingers scraping against his skin while he sucks her lips in his mouth.

He hoists himself up on his fists then.

“Or just _this_”, he growls, thrusting against her deliberately. With her head thrown back, it looks like her neck lengthens and he exploits the moment to lick a broad stride up her throat then nibbles at her skin so she coils tighter around him, arms thrown across his broad shoulders.

“Shit”, she breathes, her nose against his collarbone. Sebastian grinds into her slow, waits for her to meet him halfway before picking up the pace, drinking broken sighs and expletives right from her mouth. He shuts his eyes. In his mind, they’re both naked and she’s warm, damp and clamped tight around him. The picture is too tantalizing so he chokes a sob and opens lust blown eyes to see her beautiful face crunched with bliss. He lets out a dark chuckle and fumbles with the zipper of her jeans, pulling the material so his fingers explore her damp curls.

She holds her breath when his thumb brushes her slit up and down, her nails digging the skin at the back of his neck. But it’s not enough, he needs her bare beneath him so he nudges her hip and moves off with reluctance, willfully starving himself.

Letitia stifles a whine of frustration and they combine hands to slide her jeans down her legs. She’s so gorgeous that he stops in his tracks and giggles when she brings him back to earth by hiking her legs around his torso. Sebastian falls like a heap on top of her then, her yelping inducing a laugh.

“You’re heavy”, she whispers in his neck. She doesn’t seem to mind so much because she coils around him like a vine. Sebastian brushes braids away from her face before kissing her soundly. Despite the haze of desire, they find enough clarity to hug each other, breathe each other’s damp skin and murmuring words of love.

But she urges him after a while, slipping her hands beneath his shirt to tickle his ribs.

“About that orgasm stuff…I think I’m gonna need one of those”, she demands shamelessly.

“Do you ?”

“Yep.”

“It’s a good thing I’m the right man for the job then”, he chuckles, deft hands already diving in her cotton panties. She’s completely soaked and he licks his lips at the thought of drowning between her legs.

* * *

They fall into an easy routine for the following days. It takes him no time to get used to having her welcome him after work, hand him a glass of white wine while she sips on juice, and get comfortable as they catch up. As for her, she brings her own touch to his home, as always, from the earrings she keeps losing to her electric toothbrush and culinary experiments that end up with him having to open all the windows and order Chinese takeaway. Once, he comes back to find a small cactus on the console in the entry. He loves her spirit, her ability to always lift up the mood. How grounded she is while still maintaining an almost childlike innocence.But he’s not welcomed by a smile that night, doesn’t get dragged into an impromptu choreography either. In the contrary, there’s only _silence_. At first, he figures she’s gone out, catching up with friends, though she always texts beforehand if she trades plans. The plan for tonight is to order some pizza and cuddle up together in front of a Twilight zone episode. Sebastian has been incredibly offended that she doesn’t know of this show. Old school Hollywood is his area of expertise and for once, he’s looking forward to rattle off _his_ anecdotes.

He drops his bag on the kitchen table. His first guess is the bedroom. She’s probably taking a late nap. The door is left ajar but the only sign of her left is traces of her perfume hanging in the air and her thongs scattered on each end of the bed. That’s the thing about her. She wears thongs no matter the season. Panic sets in for a split second. No. She wouldn’t leave before warning him.

He thinks of the bathroom then and figures she’s in there when the knob doesn’t slide under his palm. She’s locked herself.

“Tish, you alright ?”

There’s a rustling sound then some sniffling, followed by the sound of flowing water. His chest constricts at the idea she’s been crying. He sucks in a sharp breath.

“Letitia”, he says as softly as he can.

“Just give me a minute. Please.”

Her voice sounds small, so frail it tugs something in his chest. The door opens on-the-fly, her smile genuine albeit there are traces of crusted tears on her cheeks. It takes everything in him not to scoop her in his arms and take her to bed, shielding her from all that is evil in the world. He hates whoever put her in such a vulnerable state of mind and dreads that, perhaps, he’s the one to be the culprit.

“Welcome home”, she tries with a shuddering voice. He reaches for her hand, squeezing her fingers for reassurance.

“Are you sure you’re okay ?”

She puffs some air then flicks remaining tears of her eyes.

“All good. I’m ready to marathon your vintage Dr Who”, she quips, patting his shoulder on the way to the living room. Somehow, she looks smaller than usual as he watches her back and her hunched shoulders. His fingers tingle. She shouldn’t discard her emotions like that. She’s the one who taught him that lesson.

He watches with idle hands as she lights up the large screen hanging on the wall, keeps silent when she fiddles with her phone. He knows she has a hundred apps there and one of those is meant to pilot the speakers.

She babbles about sci-fi then. He cannot take it anymore. His strong arms cover her like a blanket, and he leaves a kiss right behind her ear. Letitia shudders but doesn’t hug him back. She brushes her fingers against his, mutters something inaudible about needing to order food. Sebastian shakes his head but still loosens his embrace.

There’s a part of her that is incredibly secretive and he knows she will never let go of it. It was sexy at first but now it frustrates him so much that the woman he loves is keeping him away from whatever is hurting her soul. Because they might share the same space but her spirit is a million miles away tonight.

* * *

“_Four months to go_”, she whispers in the night, so low that he thinks he’s dreaming. He strokes her shoulder then, sighs in relief when she tucks her head underneath his chin. She’s there, on _his_ bed, safe in _his_ arms, and that’s all that matters. He kisses the top of her head, inhales the peppermint smell of her braid oil.

“Yeah. Time flies huh”, he rasps, voice rough from the slumber.

She keeps silent for a moment. He doesn’t begrudge her and caresses her back instead.

“I can’t wait to marry you. I really can’t”, she trails, throwing her arm across his torso. Sebastian would have smiled and teased if it weren’t for how shaken she actually sounds. If only she would just say what’s on her mind. If only she’d just break the walls she’d erected to protect herself.

“Tish. You know you can talk to me, love”

“I know.”

“_Anytime_. I mean it.”

She nods.

“I know”, she repeats. He presses her closer, winding both arms around her body until she sighs happily and tension leaves her muscles.

“I love you”, he says, and hates that he sounds almost drained. Letitia doesn’t take heed of it, strokes the grey patch in his beard and pecks his chin before hugging him tight.

“Love you too.”

* * *

It’s always a little heartbreaking to see her check her luggage. He can’t help but hover by every time it happens, offering needless help just to stay by her side a moment longer. Four months to go, he reminds himself. Four months and they’ll start a life together in London. His publicist still thinks he’s insane. That Letitia should be the one to settle in America, a better option for both their careers but he needs the change as well. Not just for her. He’s European at his core and repeatedly fell in love with the city while visiting her. This is the right decision to make.

The rattle of a key-ring breaks him out of his reverie of English suburbs and tasting Letitia’s version of her mama’s black cake.

“I think I got everything.”

Sebastian hums, finds the need to make her smile. “You sure ?”

“Yeah. I made a list.”

He steps closer to pull her against his chest.

“_Me_”, he smiles, “You forgot to put me on your list.”

“So corny”, she teases, shaking her head in fond exasperation but kissing him nevertheless. Sebastian doesn’t pry about her strange attitude the night before. She will speak to him only when she’s ready to. That’s the way she does things. He knows he’ll probably receive a long voicemail or texts as an explanation. Somewhat, that’s usually how they resolve arguments, putting necessary distance between them and taking the time to choose careful words.

In two weeks, he’ll be the one to come to London, as to meet the wedding planner he’s only skyped with until now. The idea to visit the wedding venue with Letitia leaves him giddy and soothes the ache of having to let her go.

“I’ll call you”, she says, putting on her leather jacket in the entry.

“You better”, he taunts, arching a brow, unable to have her cross his threshold without planting another kiss on her temple.

Letitia offers him another smile that has difficulty reaching her eyes. She turns around after an evasive neck bow. It's that fleeting moment which changes everything. He finds he cannot take it anymore. There are too many words under her silences. He will not have her leaving him before asking for answers.

Enough.

“I know you cried in that bathroom”, he says abruptly, right when her hand hovers over the door knob. She stills, shoulders shuddering and for once, Sebastian ignores the walls she erected to protect her heart. He won’t try to climb them like a good little boy this time. No. This time, he will take these walls down.

“_I heard you_”, he adds,“Talk to me. _Tell me about your worries._ That’s what you said to me long ago. Please, do me the same favor.”

There’s another loud silence. Then a sniffle.

“Okay”, Letitia tries with a shudder in her voice, “I’m still your beard apparently.”

“Wh-_what _?”

“Heard that right. And you’re my beard too.”

“That’s not true.”

“The internet thinks that way.”

He rolls his eyes. He should have seen that coming. They decided to keep their engagement private as to avoid media attention and now, these people are running with more ridiculous stories. “Well, the internet is full of shit, we both know that. Don’t let it get to you, love”, he tries, stroking her shoulder with reassurance. Letitia scowls, pulling away.

“How do I let it go when hundreds of people think that we’re each other’s beards ? _Or that we’re paid to stage our relationship _?”

She doesn’t just look angry, she’s obviously hurt deeply. Sebastian doesn’t begrudge her. He was the one to blow a fuse the first time he was sent a trash article accusing the both of them of faking their relationship. It goes beyond crazy rumors. This kind of stuff is straight slander and in Letitia’s case, character assassination because she’s hands down the most authentic person he’s ever met.

“You know, with the wedding rumors, I thought that these people would stop or at least, take us more seriously. But they won’t. I know they never will now. This is so freaking toxic…” she trails. Her small hands are clenched tight, eyes lowered to the ground. She’s trembling with emotions and since he’s never seen her like this, he’s unsure of what to do.

“You went on Instagram again”, he sighs, and it sounds more recriminating than he would have wanted. He immediately bites his tongue at her reaction.

“So that makes me the idiot for reading them ?”, she deadpans.

“We agreed on that ages ago. No more lurking on the internet to see what people think of our relationship. It’s not Perez Hilton’s business what we decide to do of our lives !”

“_That’s easy for you to say_”, she splutters accusingly.

That gives him pause. The cross of his arms loosens until they hang at his sides. What is she on about ? He feels like there’s something deeper lurking there. Sebastian kneads the back of his neck then, already tense and sore with irritation. What the hell is going on ? This is not the way he wanted that evening to go. He should be giving her some of his love before she takes off. Anything but argue over tabloid culture.

“How is that easier for me ?”

She averts her gaze again, clenching her jaw. Her beautiful profile doesn’t draw his attention away from the matter at hands. He moves closer, plants himself right in front of her, fists resting on his hips.

“It just is”, she mumbles, finally locking eyes with him.

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re not the one the press considers an anomaly in their fiancé’s dating life, Seb.”

The sheer pain and resentment in her voice hits him _hard_. He doesn’t know how to react at first. He’s too hesitant in his reply, can already feel her closing her walls before he even got to cross the gates.

“Where the hell is this all coming from… ?”, he gruffs.

Letitia raises her chin, crosses her arms with more determination.

“Can’t tell me they’re wrong on that one. All your exes are super feminine, pretty white girls.”

“Excuse me ?”

“This is the truth. _I’m not your type_.”

He’s so dumbfounded he can’t even croak out a reply. He settles for pulling on his hairline with a deep sigh. She’s one of the strongest people he knows. He can’t believe she’s let those tabloids get to her like that. _This is beneath her_.

“Honestly, why would I want to marry you if I weren’t attracted to you ?”, he says, biting his lower lip after that, thinking he’s got her. But he’s dead wrong.

“I was thinking the same thing actually”, she replies immediately, her voice turning to a faded whisper. That hits him like a cold shower just as much as it spikes his own brand of irritation. How _dare_ she doubt their love ? After everything they’ve been through. After the friendships they’ve had to break because of negative people sucking their happiness out.

“So now it’s bad that I’ve never dated any woman like you before? I thought you didn’t trust men that only dated black girls. That’s what you told me before.”

_“Cause I don’t wanna be a checkbox for their old white man fetishes._ But this isn’t about me! This is about your type. You have to face it, man. There’s no one like me in your dating history._”_

_“_But why does that bother you so much _now_ ?”

“Because I don’t wanna wake up next to_ my_ husband one day and watch you look at me and realize you regret _pale skin and soft hair and big boobs_. That’s why.”

Her breathing turns to short pants after the last words. Sebastian is so stunned he takes a step backwards. He would have never thought this could be such a sore point with her. That she feels out-of-place somewhat, despite taking the most space in his heart and soul. How can she be so oblivious to the fact she’s etched herself up to his veins ?

Anger fades to bewilderment then a nervous sort of hilarity. He chuckles darkly. _Unbelievable_. This woman of his is truly one of a kind. And he has to admit, that impulsive side of her is as infuriating as it is adorable. She’s tomboyish, so low maintenance and independent that sometimes, he wonders why she’s chosen him of all men. It reassures him somewhat, to know she can feel as disoriented about their relationship as he does sometimes. And the possessiveness drenching her tone when talking about his exes, it makes a special kind of male pride pulsating in his chest.

“Ridiculous”, he huffs.

“_I_ am ridiculous ?”

“Yep. You’re spouting complete nonsense”, he says, shaking his head left and right,

Still, he walks in her direction, plants himself right in front of her, so close she has to crane he neck to keep holding his gaze. He tucks her chin between his fingers despite the daggers she keeps throwing at him with her slanted eyes.

“You’re not taking me seriously at all”, she mumbles.

Sebastian lets out a wry hum.

“I do actually. Glad to know I ain’t the one being an idiot this time.”

“And now, you insult me ! _Seb_ !”

“_Shut up_.”

A wide gasp splits her face in two then. He’s never talked to her like this, never commanded her to do anything. But an end justifies any means and he’s glad he’s shocked her so effectively she can’t even croak a word out. She holds a finger up, as if to point the offense. Sebastian doesn’t even spare it a glance.

She’s a bright thing but only human. What kind of fiancé would he be if he didn’t help her get back on the right track ? She’s wrong on so many levels, thinking there’s any chance of him ever regretting dating her. It’s true she’s not the wife he’s envisioned in his wildest dreams, not even close, but he doesn’t care that she doesn’t fit the image because she’s even better than his hypothetical dream girl, by a long shot.

“You say you’re not my type, Tish. You’re right.”

Letitia closes her mouth immediately. She slaps his hand away from her chin, would have escaped if it weren’t for him blocking the path. It’s not his plan to be cruel. She has to understand the way he thinks this through.

“Am I your type ?”, he asks before swallowing laboriously. He already knows the answer to that.

She darts her eyes to the closest prop, a brass vase perched on top of a console.

“I know your type, love. Your type is young, bright, black boys that are hilarious enough to make you laugh to tears but so serious they never miss a Sunday mass. Your type is trendy, the kind to know of all the hip things, no, actually, they’re the kind to start trends and inspire people…Your type lights up the room when they make an entrance, you know. Your type never doubts and they never make you doubt of their feelings either.”

Each word digs a little more at his self-esteem but he continues. _He’s not her type_, has slowly come terms to terms with that, months ago, when he didn’t even dare holding her attention long enough to become a close friend.

He sucks in a sharp breath.

“See, I’d be lying if I told you I didn’t give a shit about being your type cause I still do, a whole lot sometimes. But I refuse to get this worked up over it. It would me eat me alive if I did. ”

Letitia finally holds his gaze, chest heaving. She doesn’t say a word.

“You don’t need to be a copy paste of all the women I dated before, love. I don’t care that we don’t fit each other idea of a perfect spouse. I have you_. You have me_. We’re in this together. It’s all that matters.”

His fingers spread like a fan on the wall before he lowers his arm and jams it inside his pocket, leaving a clean pathway for her to go. The next words threaten to make him lose balance and he regrets them as soon as they get past his lips.

“But if what we have is not enough for you, if you think I’m gonna turn around and leave you someday…If you think there’s still a _chance_ of finding that man of your dreams, then tell me”, he shrugs, gulping down on something like bile. It feels like his guts are laid bare between them. He hopes she will not trample on it. He _hates_ being confrontational.

This one sided conversation has left him drained, his throat dry.

Letitia is breathing hard, eyes still locked with him as he tries to steady his heartbeat. He lingers on the emerald cut of her ring then, all diamond, silver and pear shaped citrine. A precious gift from his grandmother. It grounds him just as much as it breaks his heart.

He looks away after Letitia steps backwards and grabs the handle of her suitcase. 

But instead of crossing the door, she pulls her luggage away from the entry. He’s thoroughly entranced when she freezes after moving ahead of him and glances past her shoulder tentatively, a shy smile stretching her lips. Relief makes his fingers tingle. He nods slowly then.

There’s the rattle of her luggage against the floor between them, a wave of want turning his shoulders tense as she palms the door to his bedroom open and slips inside, leaving it ajar for him.

He doesn’t say a word; watches Letitia slide her suitcase against the wall, and he follows her movements when she takes off her silk and wool scarf then her jacket. She breathes deeply, knotting her hands before peering at his bed, where two apple green pillows rub against powdery grey covers.

The two large windows creating interstices into the brick wall are not enough. He needs to see all her expressions so he raises a hand, rubbing the wall to find the switch and grunting in frustration when he fails. Letitia shakes her head. Her breathy giggle takes off the weight from his shoulders.

Fine. He’ll do with the moonlight filtering through the windows.

She’s the one to make the first step, pulling on the hem of his shirt until he has to follow her lead, albeit he raises a perplexed brow. At some point, the back of her knees hit the bed. That’s when her hand cradles his neck.

Letitia dampens her lips. He watches the pink tip of her tongue slip and slide deliciously like a hypnotized man. Her nails digging in his skin shakes him out of it.

“You have a flight”, he says with a throaty voice, but despite the warning, his greedy hands find her hips and tug her closer. Letitia shakes her head, presses her chest against his.

“You have me”, she says with the smallest voice, looking at him from behind her lashes.

His throat is dry. He gulps down with difficulty.

“Do I ?”, he breathes.

She nods then stands on her toes to kiss him tentatively, a kiss that says “_sorry, forgive me_”. Sebastian will not have it. He lifts her in his arms, inciting an embarrassed yelp. But she doesn’t ask him to let her down so he takes it as a small victory. In the contrary, her thighs clutch his hips and she digs her hands in his hair, her head tilted back to take a better look at him.

“I’m sorry”, she starts. He shakes his head. She kisses him some more then, with more assurance and passion. Sebastian drinks her like the finest wine, keeps kissing her when he turns around to sit at a nearby leather sofa while carrying her. She hums beautifully, pulling back after he bites gently at her lower lip.

“All is forgiven, love. Always”, he assures, stroking her back, his own laid flat against the sofa while he marvels at the woman in his arms. Beautiful, kind, strong and vulnerable at the same time. That’s just how her body is as well. A mix of slender curves and lean muscles on a small frame.

“It’s just…I don’t know why it hit me like that. I shouldn’t have judged you. For that, I’m really sorry. Duh, _this is so embarrassing_.”

Sebastian catches her with a small peck to her temple when she topples in shame, hiding her face in the sofa. Sebastian chuckles.

“Happens to the best of us. Don’t worry about it”

“But I was like… so dramatic ? Oh my God.”

“We’re actors, Tish. You can be as dramatic as you want with me.”

With that, he weaves their fingers. It’s the easiest thing in the world to settle with her weight atop of his. His eyes run down her body, and he can’t help pulling at the collar of her plain white top.

“If you ever have worries, tell me”, he says tentatively. Letitia catches his hand then brings it to her mouth. His heart nearly stops when she reverently kisses his fingers. He fights the mist threatening to take over his eyes.

“I will. And Tell you what ?_ You’re my type, Seb_. You have a weird sense of humor. You make me laugh even when you don’t intend to, well, especially when you don’t mean to cause you’re a dork. You’re passionate about things and people you care about. You have a big heart, so big it breaks easily, my love. And looks wise ? You’re so handsome that I want to thank my lucky stars for meeting you."

Sebastiant lets out a watery laugh. She brushes her lips against his after her little tirade, unaware that she just took his breath away.

_’My love’_.

This is the first time the endearment ever slipped out of her mouth. Sure, she’s told him she loved him multiple times before but never with that brand of possessiveness.

“God, I love you… So much”, he marvels.

“Good. Cause I love you too and I don’t want to let go. Ever”

She puts her hands flat on his chest then, leans forward to kiss him soundly. He shuts his eyes to savor her taste, strong arms crisscrossed over her back, effectively caging her body. Each slip and swipe of her tongue is a threat to his sanity and he bucks his hips then. He opens his eyes and is about to mumble words of apologies when she rolls her hips against his in return, lips sliding off his with a breathy moan.

Four months. Only four months to go before the wedding. This is going to be painful.

Sebastian squeezes the back of her neck with one hand, pulling her shoulder away with another. They’re both panting hard. He selfishly thinks he’s the one hurting the most, erection straining against his jeans.

“Fuck. I’m gonna need you to stand, Tish.”

“Huh ? Why ?”

“Cause I need a moment in the shower. To take care of that.”

She lowers her eyes to the crotch of his pants then.

“Oh.”

But she makes no movement to get off his lap. He knows from the twinkle of mischief in her eyes that she doesn’t even plan to. That’s another thing about her. She _loves_ challenges. Sebastian senses he’s on thin ice. It’s a struggle to keep his hips still and not rut against her toned and warm body.

“Please.”

Hope sinks when she shakes her head and instead, keeps her eyes glued to his crotch, biting her lips. He nervously threads a hand through his hair. Shit.

“If you don’t, I’ll have to touch myself right here”, he threatens with a nervous chuckle.

She arches a quizzical brow, a sly smile stretching her beautiful mouth.

“Please do.”

“_What_ ?”

“Help yourself, Mr Stan.”

“You’re kidding right ?”

She shrugs. “I wanna watch how you do it. For…research purposes.”

On any other day, he would have laughed it off and dismissed her silly proposal. But he’s aching to be touched and never felt the urge to indulge like this. After all, there’s nothing under his pants she won’t see a few months from now. He searches her face for more validation and nods when she arches off his hips to settle further apart on his thighs. Then he undoes his pants and slips a hand in his navy blue boxers. Letitia dutifully follows the movements of his nibble hand.

“Things are gonna get messy. I warn you, love”, he rasps, pointing his chin at her top.

She grabs the arms of the sofa with a death grip, bracing herself for the show. That makes him snicker.

“I can handle messy”, she says after inhaling a sharp breath.

Sebastian moans in relief, so wound up that the first contact feels a little painful, so lustful he shuts his eyes and misses the way Letitia’s mouth slightly parts open at the sight of him springing out of his boxers. He has nothing to be ashamed about. His length is average but he’s nearly as thick as her wrist.

He pushes up his shirt then strokes himself lightly, avoiding his crown at all cost. A groan escapes him now and then. Precome wets his abdomen, leaving his skin glistening under her hungry eyes and soon, the moist sounds of him and her heavy breathing permeate the room.

Her head is tilted to the side when he opens his eyes.

“Like what you see ?”, he quips, inhibitions lost to the pleasure that makes his skin hot and damp. His chest swells with vanity at her parted lips and the sheer concentration and awe on her face.

“Keep going”, she huffs after wetting her lips. He moans long at her commanding tone and how honeyed she sounds. He picks up the pace of his strokes, bucking hips as his hand moves up and down, the other rising to slip under her blouse. Her breath hitches and she fights not to shut her eyes when he rolls a nipple between his rugged fingers.

“_Fuck_”, he whines, face straining with the effort. Then he throws his head back. Letitia leans in to nibble at his throat while her shuddering hands caress his stomach.

Sebastian grips her hip, lets guttural moans fall past his lips. _Too much_. It’s too fucking much. He rubs her cheek with his nose until she gets the memo and offers her lips for the taking. Fuck. He wants to eat her alive.

“I need…Fuck, baby…_I need you_”

She nods vigorously, winding her arms around his neck. With a hiss, he releases his erection and his grabby hands find her firm little ass instead, pulling her close. He slips and slides against her belly then, over and over, leaning to lick a broad stripe up her neck.

“Breathe”, she hisses against his hair, “You need to breathe...”

He takes a bowl of air at her words, bumping and grinding until the pleasure spikes and he has to shut his eyes and tears his lip to keep from howling.

The wave leaves him trembling and drained at the shore, a wet mess pooling on his abdomen. He falls backwards like a heap and Letitia follows him.

It takes him a while to regain a normal breathing pattern then. Sebastian brushes damp strands away from his forehead, and turns his head to find her watching with a conniving smile. He’s a little ashamed he went all caveman and used her like this but she looks so happy he doesn’t mention it.

“Messy”, she giggles bashfully. He doesn’t take heed of it at all and instead, rubs her back before claiming her lips again.

* * *

He makes time to fly to London with his mother for New Year’s Eve to meet Letitia’s extended family, visit the venue and do some more cake tasting. The wedding planner herself is a blessing. At first, he doesn’t get how someone as bubbly as Letitia could bond with such a dry individual but truth is the woman has never seen any Marvel movie in her life and she’s not a fan. Actually, Marnie is two years away from retirement and though she dutifully goes along with their wishes while providing her expertise, Sebastian always senses an aura of not-giving-two-shits-about-it around her. He also knows she secretly has a soft spot for Letitia, probably because she’s million miles away from all the bridezillas she had to deal with in her career.

When Sebastian asks for a vintage jaguar car to bring them home after the reception, Marnie nods and scribbles the order on a note with an unreadable expression. When Letitia insists on having the ring holder be a plain seashell, Marnie gives them her first, wry smile. Sebastian knows the story behind that shell. Letitia’s grandfather gave it to her before she left Guyana and she never got to see him ever since. It might look plain to anyone else but it’s one of her most precious treasures.

Marnie convinces them to add a wedding rehearsal in their schedule while he’s in London. He’s a little ticked by the formality but approves nevertheless, as long as they don’t rehearse the vows. Most of his side of the party is not in London for said rehearsal but it’s no problem. Save for one person, all his closest friends are either actors or comfortable with speaking in public. Minus one of Letitia’s adorable little cousins wetting his pants, the rehearsal flows smoothly. It’s quite alike any other rehearsal, following directions on where to walk and where to stand, figuring out the right spacing between the guests or stuff like how to leave St Mary Moorfields in order. It’s only that this time, they’re not faking any feeling.

As a striking contrast to Marnie who is as dry as a cuckoo clock, the officiant, Father Vincent, is a small brown man with silver hair who cracks the best jokes. Even his mom is quite sensitive to the man’s charm and giggles like a teenager around him. Sebastian doesn’t know if he likes it or not.

His mother also offers to play the piano for their first dance while everyone takes a pause in a café nearby the church. The gift makes Letitia’s mother weep and hold Georgeta tight. Sebastian knows his mom is quite distant, not much for PDA, just like Letitia’s father, so when she awkwardly pats the other woman’s back with something like mist in her eyes, he searches for Letitia’s face and they exchange a complicit gaze.

That kind of happiness has a terrifying side to it. Sebastian feels like he constantly has gold at his fingertips. The possibility of loss is gnawing at the back of his mind still, even now, as he stands in the corner with her father’s infamous rum punch in hands. He’s a bit self-aware to simply enjoy himself while watching the back and forth of her parents and siblings fussing to prepare dinner but Letitia has expressly told his mother and him to rest.

There’s something chaotic and so alive about her family, something that, early in their relationship, made him realize how bleak and lonely his own childhood had been at times. So as he follows her whereabouts with a loving gaze, he can already hear little footsteps running after her. Toddlers the color of baked honey, heads full of tight curls and chubby faces smiling toothy grins. Adorable babies.

_Their babies_.

Yeah. It’s the future he sees.

Only his mother’s gentle squeeze on his forearm shakes him out of the dream. Sebastian immediately turns his head and leans in to catch her voice. It’s a little challenge given one of Letitia’s cousins is nursing a bad break up upstairs, voice gone shrill to the rhythm of a Mariah Carey’s languid love song.

He’s curious about what his mother thinks of it all. He knows how much she loves order and control. Georgeta usually rules over her emotions like a King.

But there’s no sign of disapproval of any kind on her face, only a hint of a smile, and she holds up her drink to make her glass tinkle against his. Sebastian grins.

“It’s a lovely home they have there”, she says, her gaze wandering over beautiful woodwork and brick veneer. It’s late already but they still catch the lovely garden outside behind large window panes. There’s an enchanting glow to it thanks to a legion of filament bulbs.

“It really is”, Sebastian replies, eyes already looking for his fiancée.

His mother brushes his shoulder.

“They treat you well. I’m so relieved they do”, she confesses.

His mouth opens but there’s not a single sound out. His mother focuses back on the garden but still follows the conversation.

“I had my worries, you know. Ever since you were a kid and I brought you so far away from home. You tried so hard to fit in. _So hard_. And your father and I didn’t make it easy to you with the divorce.”

Sebastian bows his neck, unsure of what to do. His mother is not one to vent or complain. Or talk about her feelings. He’s a little lost and fiddles with his half-full glass, staring at a quarter of lime green drowning in a mix of sugar cane and rum. Of course he thought about his parent’s divorce before asking Letitia if she wanted to have him for the rest of her life. _Of course_. This kind of trauma stays. But he somewhat overcame the crippling anxiety the idea of settling used to give him.

“But now you have a home”, Georgeta trails, and the way she searches for Letitia’s face is eloquent then.

Sebastian keeps silent for a second.

“Yeah I do. I have a home”, he says softly.

“_You love her._”

It’s not a question, just a statement made by a mother in awe. He figures she long gave up on the idea of his wedding and having grandkids. Now, it’s only a matter of time.

Sebastian still outbids as his heart and ears perk up.

“_With every beat of my heart_. I don’t even know how to do without her anymore”, he muses.

Georgeta tilts her head at that, smiling something fond while her eyes beam. He turns his head in self-awareness and sniffles before gulping down some punch.

* * *

“Tell you what, Sebastian ? It’s so good to finally have another _ten_ around this table ! I was getting real lonely, man”

“Akheem. _Shut up_”

Sebastian bows his neck to hide a smile at Letitia’s older brother’s shenanigans. It’s close to one in the morning but the three of them are still hanging around, seated at the long table in the living room after playing cards. They’ve lighted a pair of scented candles to clear the aroma of food but her mother has prepared such feast that he can still taste goat curry and black beans.

As expected, Letitia’s competitive spirit has taken her to the top and the rest of the household has escaped the table following her repetitive wins. There’s no down time though. He can still catch some soft rumblings from the top of the staircase.

“_Doh give meh no back chat_ !”, Akheem retorts with mock offense in a languid Guyanese accent. Letitia rolls her eyes and huffs her signature long suffering sigh – Sebastian’s favorite - before taking hold of a few discarded cards spread haphazardly on the silver lamé tablecloth.

He can’t help but watch intently as she tidies up and forms a small deck, tongue curling out of her mouth in the process. He has a mind to follow Akheem’s playful banter just to mess with her.

After shrugging and sliding his arm around the back of his chair, he puts on a shameless frown.

“Well man, thanks for the compliment but you gotta see an optician cause it’s obvious I’m an _eleven_”, he outbids, deliberately throwing Letitia a wink before taking a swig of his _Carlsberg_,

Akheem guffaws in laughter, leaning above the table to shake hands with him. Letitia glares at them the whole time, maintaining an arched eyebrow even as Akheem nudges her elbow.

“C’mon, sis ! The few boys you brought back home were threes at best. This one is a good catch.”

She prettily rolls her eyes once again.

“Of course. You kow I high-five myself mentally _every_ morning about it, right ?”, she drawls.

Both men freeze. They look at each other with bamboozled expressions before turning their head to her.

“_Really _?”, Sebastian asks, mouth spread open in surprise, and chest swelling with a little masculine pride.

She crosses her arms, sinking further in her chair. 

“Of course not, duh ! You two are so vain.”

“_Huh huh_”, Akheem says, suspicion dripping from his tone, “So you gon’ tell me you’re not feelin’a little proud about snatching Romanian prince off the market right there ?”

Sebastian kneads his face at the overt compliment, ears flushing a vibrant red. He can only see through his fingers when Letitia answers.

“Stop treating him like a trophy husband, duh”

She says it with enough tilt to mean bantery but her eyes shine something fierce. Sebastian knows he should be glad that she sees him as more than a stack of pretty face and muscles but deep inside, he really doesn’t mind being her trophy husband. In the contrary, he’ll absolutely love it if she decides to sing his praises publicly. Sure, he’ll die of happiness and embarrassment then but what a delightful way to go. 

* * *

They don’t share a room because her parents are traditional like that but they still bump into each other upstairs. It’s inevitable. _There’s only one bathroom_.

Sebastian doesn’t know if it’s because they’ve slowed down on the PDA during the short vacation or the heightened anticipation of the wedding, but his naked skin brushing against her shoulder while they prepare for bed sends his cells into boiling point. And Letitia is wearing _his_ shirt, the one with the Rutgers University’s logo plastered on its back. He’d love to have his name on her somewhat but that’s a little too much even for him. After all, she’ll be wearing his in a few months.

Letitia looks freaking edible beside him; eyes drooped because she’s drowsy but a fond smile still stretching her lips. After rinsing her mouth and dropping her toothbrush in a cup, she wipes remaining droplets off her face with the back of her hand. She stretches then, lifting her arms above her head. He gets an acute view of her small and brazen breasts, perked high and pointy under the thin fabric.

The temptation is overwhelming.

He tries to deny himself but once she throws him a mutinous smile, he can only sigh and lay down his weapons. He curls an arm around her waist as he stands behind her. She instinctively tilts her head back against his shoulder, shivering when Sebastian softly kisses her neck before dragging his nose there to inhale her smell. She’s gone back to her short hair and while he loves her with braids, he’s conquered by the way short hair allows him to worship her skin more.

“Today was so much fun”, he says before redressing himself and she beams at him. His hand settles around her hip. He gives a gentle squeeze, mesmerized by the sight they give in the mirror. Then Letitia turns around and he steps backward to allow her room. She rests her back against the basin, looks him up and down shamelessly. Sebastian offers himself to her gaze without flushing. He’s bulked enough these last months that he could easily hoist her up on the basin and have his way with her right then.

He arches a brow when her finger trails down his throat then further down, until she follows the road of sparse hair on his chest, the one guiding to his lower belly. His breath hitches when she pulls on the rim of his pajamas pants.

Just like that, Sebastian is practically at half-mast and if her pert smile were any indication, Letitia _knows_.

"You little tease", he grumbles before tickling her sides until she begs for mercy and yelps.

* * *

The following months back in New-York are an exercise in patience, soothed only by daily facetimes with his love and hanging out with his longtime friends after work. He keeps himself busy in January by investing time and money in local talent, splitting his time by running a dozen workshops in Brooklyn and working out. February and March are dedicated to shooting a Jim Jarmusch movie in the Hamptons about a retired assassin. Letitia repeatedly chides him about the role reminding her of Bucky.

All in all, he’s quite exhausted when spring comes, wrecked but still giddy with anticipation.

“We’re really doing this huh”, she marvels over the phone.

He grins, stretched on his bed like a starfish.

“Yeah”, he giggles. She replies with a squeal.

“This is so amazing, man !”

“You only say so cause you’re happy that _Chance the Rapper_ will perform for you now”, he quips, “And stop calling me man all the time. I’m gonna be your _husband_.”

He doesn’t hide the masculine pride drenching his tone, batting his eyelashes even though she cannot see him.

“Husband mmh. I _love_ the sound of that.”

“How much do you like it ?”, he slurs, lowering his voice just to mess with her.

“Very much”, she splutters.

“I can’t wait to marry you.”

She sighs happily. They soak in the comfortable silence for a minute.

“Can’t wait to marry you too. But you gotta tell me all about your stag weekend first.”

He winces as he sits up, his ribs still sore from a stunt.

There’s not much he can say about the stag because his friends wouldn’t tell him anything. He halts immediately on his way to the window, kneading his face at the idea of them bringing him in a Strip club then. He fears the worst.

“You’d love to know huh.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not telling you anything. I don’t know shit.”

“Liar. Y’all are gonna get inside a ‘Gentleman’s strip club’ right ?”

There’s not an ounce of resentment or weariness in her voice. That makes him loosen up a little.

“I really hope not.”

“Really ?”

“Yeah. Unless you make a surprise appearance and redo the Flashdance water scene.”

Letitia guffaws. He can almost see her tip her head back the way she always does when she’s full of mirth.

“_Prick_.”

“This is not a no so I’m crossing fingers over there. What are you girls up to for the stag ?”

“It’s a surprise too. I think we’ll get a little physical. They told me to dress comfortable for tomorrow.”

“_Getting physical huh_ ? Maybe you guys are the ones who’ll get inside a strip club. And you always dress comfortable, love.”

“They said casual. Like ‘_wear clothes you won’t cry a river about when you have to put them in the bin_’” casual”, she trails, ignoring the sexual innuendo with a deep sigh.

They talk some more about the wedding then, running over last minute details and guests who won’t probably make it. He’s sorry that she has to shoulder most of the preparation. Even though they always skype every time she goes back on the venue, a quiet corner in Kew Gardens, it’s not the same thing as him being there beside her.

The venue is spacious enough to welcome around 180 guests but they only have 50. It’s a small guest list for the two Hollywood stars they are and that keeps sparking a lot of conversations in each of their families. Sebastian has never understood the impulse to invite a distant aunt or cousin just for the formality. He’s glad Letitia agrees with him, even though she has a bigger family and had to trim her personal list more than him.

Their closest friends and family. _That’s all that matters_.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments are greatly appreciated !


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